


The Canadian Moose Truck

by Shaleschnueffler



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brothers, Canada, Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Driving, For a Friend, Gen, Gift Fic, I Don't Even Know, I'm Sorry, Insider, It's For a Case, Random & Short, Trucks, Werewolves, What Was I Thinking?, Why Did I Write This?, this is actual garbage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-26
Updated: 2020-04-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:26:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23772277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shaleschnueffler/pseuds/Shaleschnueffler
Summary: Sam and Dean are out hunting - not in the United States for once, but in Canada! Waiting for their angelic friends to join them on their hunt, they drive through the nothingness of the Canadian forest, crack, shit, and chaos ensues.
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel & Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester & Sam Winchester, Gabriel & Sam Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	The Canadian Moose Truck

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Alice_huhhuhhhu](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alice_huhhuhhhu/gifts).



> I would very much like to apologize. For not posting in a whole year, for coming back with this crap here, and for writing this crap here in general. It's something for my dear friend, whose birthday is today. Since I've been postponing this special piece of work for probably a year now, I finally decided to sit down and get back to writing! Although I'm not sure if I will fully come back, at least I managed to get this one done in time!
> 
> Therefore: Happy birthday, friend! I hope you'll like this cracky, crappy thing I somehow scraped together... maybe I'll finish that minature Sebastian fic at some point...or continue writing my hunter AU.... I'd gladly add one of those to your birthday gifts with a little motivation ;)  
> I really wasn't sure how to write this one since I somehow had to get a starting situation that wasn't too weird...and suddenly I started writing seriously, and the crack part is real short and sudden, and...ugh, I don't know. You know, I think I'll start writing another one right now, since I feel like this one isn't even remotely enough to pay you back for everything you've done for me in the past years. I'm not that happy with how this turned out, but maybe you can find some quality in this xD

Sam and Dean Winchester had been hunters for quite some time now. Basically since they'd been children, their father had taught them how to shoot a rifle, the right way to sharpen a knife, the best techniques to successfully decapitate a vampire. They'd been travelling around the USA for as long as they could remember - and Cas for some years now, too. Basically ever since he'd first laid eyes on Dean Winchester in that barn back then, he'd followed the brothers around day for day. Well, except for the few times he'd been dead. Or held captive. Or going after his own business...which...mostly hadn't gone too well. But whatever. That wasn't what this was about, anyway, not in the slightest - because, while, especially to Dean, what Cas had been up to all this time was of _great_ importance, the crucial part of all this was that the brothers had done nothing but travel within and through the 50 states of America. They'd encountered the British Men of Letters, had talked to Australians and Scots, they'd probably even run into Russians and Indians at some point in the past years. However, they'd never left the country they'd grown up and been raised in. Maybe because their father hadn't done so, either. Maybe because this was their home and they felt obliged to protect it at all costs. Maybe because there were other hunters for other parts of the world, and this was theirs.

Probably because they'd started here, and ever since (and probably before that, too), every vital thing featuring Satan, Hell, gates to different realities, the apocalypse, and all the other bullshit that had threatened the entire universe in the past few decades, had taken place here as well. Here, in the United States, that had apparently become a hotspot for monsters, demons, and supernatural maniacs who wanted to take over the world. Or destroy it. There had really been many of those. With motives and goals of a variety so colorful and special that it would make the best and most unique ice-cream parlor owner jealous.

One way or another, the United States of America had been their home and road since ever. And if things hadn't turned out so endlessly crappy, it would've probably stayed that way. But things had, in fact, turned out endlessly crappy. How couldn't they? They always did. And two weeks - and many hours of research, one sprained ankle, some bruises, a bunch of dead werewolves, two or three persecutions, and many, _many_ hours of aimlessly driving around at full speed - later, they had crossed the Canadian border. For once, they hadn't been on the police's most-wanted list and had therefore been able to pass comparatively easily despite their trunk being filled with various weapons and other questionable contents. It had been the first time they'd left the USA on their own (or at all?) although they would've normally given up on any cases directly concerning other countries. However, the trail of the werewolves they'd been hunting had led them here. And since the damn curs had caused quite some trouble over in the States for whatever reason - Sam and Dean were still trying to figure that specific part out -, they'd decided to keep on following them. And Cas had promised to catch up when he could. Whatever that meant. They weren't expecting him to show up anytime soon.

At this very moment, they were driving through complete nothingness. They'd left behind some bigger cities and towns pretty long ago, and although they did, in fact, find themselves wondering how the hell two or more packs of wolves had managed to stay in touch and connected over such a long distance for so long, they kept driving. Through another small village or two, until the road they were following turned uneven - and completely white. Sam looked down at the map in his lap, the one they'd bought only a few hours ago in the first tourist shop they'd seen after passing the border, and sighed dramatically.

\- "Few more hours, probably. But it's mostly just...nothing."

\- "What do you mean, nothing?", Dean asked, looking back over his shoulder - _as if there was any possibility at all that they weren't the only ones on this scrap of road_ \- before taking a swift left turn, the dirt and snow crunching under the weight of the Impala. Sam reached out to turn on the heater that Dean had refused to use until now because "it isn't even that cold, Sam, don't be such a girl".

\- "It's Canada, Dean. It's just gonna be trees and snow now until we get there", he responded with a slight roll of his eyes, looking down at the map again. If the werewolf hideout had turned out to be located at some abandoned and non-civilized place in the middle of the woods, they probably wouldn't have minded it, not one bit, and would've left them for some other hunter to deal with. A _Canadian_ hunter. But, as always, luck hadn't been on their side. It never was. And the werewolves had found themselves a cozy spot in the middle of nothing and nowhere- except for three small towns that had _also_ found themselves a cozy spot in the middle of nothing and nowhere and had, therefore, become the victims of the bloodthirsty pack.

\- "Wanna play a game to pass the time, Sammy?", Dean asked with a grin, probably enjoying the little time off and the new views they were getting in this unfamiliar country - Sam really couldn't blame him, though -, and when the younger one responded with nothing but a cool "No, Dean", the hunter had already started a game of "I spy with my little eye".

\- "I spy something that's white and--"

And Sam turned his brother's stupid rock music louder.

\---

It wasn't so much later when Dean stopped the Impala in the middle of the road, opened the driver's door, and stepped out into the cold, Sam following close behind. The sun was mere hours away from setting behind the crowns of the snow-covered trees surrounding them, and the hunters should've probably just kept going in order to make it to their destination in time without having to drive through the night, especially considering the fact that thick clouds were covering the sky, barely letting any sunlight through. The night was going to get cold and dark, and with no streetlights around, Dean could already see his poor baby's hood hugging a tree, with her back tires frozen to the ground in front of his eyes.

\- "This is bullcrap", Dean exhaled, a white cloud of air escaping his mouth as he breathed out and pulled his jacket tighter around himself. "We're _way_ too far away, Sam, we're wasting our time."

The taller man generously ignored his brother and rounded the car to gather his stuff from the trunk - silver bullets, a knife, a roll of bandage (he'd packed some first aid stuff at some point after they'd just barely escaped death one too many times due to blood loss), a normal handgun. Dean followed with a sigh and reached for one of the shotguns they had stored away. Sam raised an eyebrow at him but the older brother simply shrugged as he cocked the gun.

\- "You heard a goddamn dog howl, why the hell should I gear up for a whole pack of werewolves?"

Sam rolled his eyes and slammed the trunk shut.

\- "I heard a _wolf_ , Dean. There were footprints, paw tracks, _and_ blood. I know we're not even close to the pack we're after but maybe there are more, or they followed prey to here", he said, a little unnerved, and about two seconds of awkwardly staring into each other's eyes later, Dean, breathing out an annoyed "Fine!", threw his hands up in devastation and swung the back of the car open once more, side-eyeing his brother.

\- "I bet 20 dollars it's not a werewolf", he added as he locked the car, and Sam, who'd just finished loading and cocking his second gun and storing everything away safely, shook his head with a sigh.

\- "You can keep your money, thanks. Now, let's just check it out, we can always spend the night in the car."

And he was right. It wasn't like they hadn't slept in the Impala a billion times by now, and although both brothers disliked the discomfort of the seats, Dean sighed, apparently fully giving in now, knowing there was no way he was gonna get out of this if Sam had his mind set on going after the tracks like this.

And so they finished gearing up and preparing and took the first steps off the bumpy road to where the snow was deeper. Not that much deeper, seeing as there was barely anything on the roads that could've flattened or shoved away the snow anyway, but a little bit deeper. At least deep enough for the cold to reach Dean's calves as his left foot sunk down and he almost tripped, not expecting the handicap to be this severe. With a quiet curse, he regained his balance and followed his taller brother, taking big steps.

\- "You've got it so much easier with that height...", he grumbled, but Sam didn't even turn around to look at him, eyes set on the ground before him in order to follow the tracks.

They led further into the woods, and soon, the Impala was almost out of sight.

\- "Can be glad I got GPS on my baby", Dean commented, still not getting a single reaction from Sam apart from a subtle eye roll that he, frankly, didn't even notice.

They trudged through the snow for about forty minutes, the darkness that had begun to settle down around them due to the tall trees surrounding them forced the hunters to fetch their flashlights although the sun hadn't even started to actually set just yet. Lucky for them, there was no new snow coming down from above, making it way easier for them to keep moving and follow the tracks - otherwise, all this time might've been a waste of time, but this way, Dean at least had no reason to start complaining again. But, as Sam was reminded only minutes later, Dean always found shit to complain about. _"I'm freezing my ass off"_. _"My poor baby"_. _"This is fucking stupid"_. The taller man tried to ignore it as well as he could. He was used to it after all.

It was another quarter-hour or so - they didn't really pay attention to the time at that moment - before Dean finally found something that he could express joy about. With a stupid grin on his face he pointed a little further down the road they'd just reached, eyes fixed on Sam.

\- "Look, Sammy. 'Moose crossing'", he teased, as if the younger one hadn't already rolled his eyes and focused back ahead after casting a glance at the big road sign that was almost completely iced over.

\- "Come on, it's funny", Dean pressed, still looking directly at his brother, waiting for some kind of positive reaction, one that he surely wouldn't get. Sighing, huffing a clipped, deadpan "Yes, Dean, very funny", Sam finally stepped on the road, his flashlight illuminating the tire tracks that were barely still recognizable due to the snow. Must've been a while since anyone had been out there, he figured, shrugging internally, before he took another step.

Everything that took place on that very road only split seconds later went down too suddenly and unexpectedly for either Sam or Dean to grasp what was even going on while it was happening. There was a loud, deafening sound, and blindingly bright light, illumining the snowy surroundings, drawing closer and closer. Seemingly coming out of nowhere, the truck - it couldn't have been anything else, judging by the sounds and size of the thing, that much the brothers could figure out within the few heartbeats of time they had to react - tore down the road. The hunters' reflexes were extraordinarily good, almost perfect; but still, all Sam did was put up his arms in a poor attempt to somehow protect his body. And Dean? Dean just stared.

The things that the younger one realized, thought, and noticed within the last seconds he had before he would face death (again), normally wouldn't fit into the small timeframe between first laying eyes on the monster of a vehicle and getting crushed by its hood, but time seemed to stand still for him for a moment.

The siren - was it a siren? It sure sounded like one. Why did this freaking thing have a siren?! - sounded odd, off, in every way imaginable. The red front of the truck grew bigger the closer it got, yellow and blue lights blinking frantically, but that could've been Sam's eyes playing tricks on him, he didn't know anymore.

If he put his hand forward now, he'd be able to touch the shiny metal. He wasn't looking anymore, not because of the fear of the impact, but because of the goddamn lights threatening to burn his eyes straight out of his skull, so bright that he was still blinded, even through his lids.

All of a sudden, everything around him went black. Colors were dancing in front of his closed eyes but when they snapped open, there was nothing but darkness. Had he died? But death didn't look like this, not at all. Was he in a coma? He remembered that differently, too. Simply unconscious? A djinn, maybe? Had all of this just been some kind of dream? Hadn't he caught a fever only a few days ago? No, not a fever... a cold? He couldn't remember. Was he going delirious now?

\- "Sam?", Dean's voice cut through the silence, wavering.

The sounds of the roaring motor and the obnoxious ringing in his ears had died down.

\- "Yeah?", he gave back, finally beginning to move his muscles again. Flexing his fingers, twisting his wrist, then he looked down at himself. He was in one piece. There was no pain, nothing. With one move of his thumb, he flicked the switch on his flashlight, but nothing happened.

\- "What the _fuck_ was that?!", Dean now burst out, and Sam could see the beam of his brother's - apparently still working - torch now, as the older hunter hurried towards him. "You okay?", and Sam nodded, blinking.

\- "I... I think so, yeah. I'm fine." And despite the circumstances, he simply couldn't hold back the "You believe me now there's something going on?". Dean breathed in after a resigning huff, about to raise his voice, when Sam's heart skipped another beat as something brushed past his shoulder. Within split seconds, adrenaline still pumping through his veins, he reached for his knife, spinning around and slicing through what turned out to be nothing. Nothing but cold Canada air. He was breathing quickly, looking around, fingers tightly wrapped around the weapon's hilt, the other hand placed on the gun he was carrying on his waist. His breath turned into small white clouds upon leaving his mouth, eyes jumping from right to left and back frantically.

\- "Sam? What's wrong? You okay?"

The hunter nodded, slowly, as his muscles began to relax again after standing tense for a minute or two without even hearing a sound, let alone seeing any movement at all that wasn't the wind rushing through the trees' crowns above. It was ghostly quiet around them - who knew, maybe there really was a ghost around somewhere? It was too cold to even notice a change in temperature.

Sam sighed.

They stood in silence for a few moments longer, eyes scanning their surroundings, but nothing appeared, nothing sounded up, nothing happened, nothing at all. Nothing.

Except for one thing. One thing, only seconds before Sam had wanted to suggest they keep going. Brows furrowed, he let out a sigh, of both disbelief and despair. His eyes narrowed while Dean pulled his gun, cold steady gaze set on the creature in front of them that was casting shadows that shouldn't exist in a dark night like this one as it emerged from the trees

Brightly gleaming eyes met Sam's.

\- "Damn." A joyful smirk that was speaking volumes took hold of the eyes. "Sorry Sambrador, looks like I didn't see the sign there", the grin said, and a hand carelessly flourished towards the side. Not one pair of eyes followed the gesture. "Even had the moose siren on."

A second of quiet.

Then Dean shot. Five times. Five times before he threw his hands up, cursing. Two times after that.

\- "I missed ya too, Dean-o."

Dean shouted. A curse, maybe two. Probably three. Sam ran a hand through his hair and over his face, suddenly wishing that he actually _had_ died back there.

\- "You almost killed me, Gabriel!"

Looking at the situation at hand, maybe some time off-life would've really done him some good.

\- "Yeah, sorry about that. You know what they say, a miss is as good as a mile."

And somehow, for some unknown reason, they ended up cramped into a car in the middle of nowhere together - that was frozen to the road and almost buried in fresh snow that had started to fall somewhere during their way back when they'd decided to return to the Impala once they'd figured out that the tracks had led them to nothing but an annoying idiot of an archangel -, shouting and cursing at each other. And when Castiel finally showed up in the backseat, the look on his face made it seem like he was going to take off again within a heartbeat.

Two minutes later, the Impala was roaring through the trees, with Sam pressing his thumbs against his temples, Dean turning the music to full volume and singing along at the top of his lungs, Castiel asking question after question about everything and anything, and Gabriel in a child car seat, mouth taped shut.

They got the werewolves eventually, at least.

And, well - they could now be sure that Canada _really_ wasn't for them after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Welp, this was it. Definitely not enough to thank you for everything, the artworks, the help, the fics you've gifted to me over the time. I don't think I can ever really repay you for all that. But I can try, and I tried, and I will keep trying. Don't you ever think you're not enough - for me, for the world, for anyone, because you are. And although we won't be able to see Misha anytime soon, just know that we will, at some point. And then you'll know that you're more needed and appreciated than you've ever thought. You're family, because family don't end with blood. Keep burning bright. You'll make it. We will, together. Have an amazing day, friend. And know that you can count on me, whenever.


End file.
